Change of Heart
by Jeanie205
Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are the creators of a successful series of YA fantasy books. He's the writer, she's the illustrator. They're also the best of friends. At one time, the might have been a lot more, but Clarke decided differently. But now she might just have had a change of heart. Has she missed her chance forever?


"Can I ask a favor?" His question sounded a little more offhand than usual.

Clarke smiled at Bellamy as she packed up her portfolio at the tail end of a busy Friday. "Of course."

"Um...are you doing anything tomorrow?"

It was the last thing she'd expected.

"Laundry? I'm down to my granny pants and it isn't pretty." She paused, car keys in hand, her brow wrinkling. "Why?"

Bellamy shrugged, not quite looking at her. "I wouldn't want to interfere with your pursuit of clean clothes, but...uh...I thought maybe we could... hang out."

Clarke blinked in surprise. She and Bellamy worked together, had the same group of friends, and occasionally even traveled together for work, so they spent a lot of time in each others' company. But not like that. Not on lazy Saturdays with nothing to do but enjoy the day.

She worked hard at keeping her voice even and her mind from wandering to places it shouldn't go. Dangerous places.

"Uh, sure, I guess. We could maybe cook, if you want? I got this new recipe I wanted to try anyway."

Bellamy's face brightened, although whether it was at the prospect of trying out a new recipe or having her company for the day, Clarke wasn't sure.

"Good. Great. I'll be over about noon," he said, and she would swear he sounded a little... relieved.

When he'd closed her office door behind him, Clarke let out a puzzled huff.

Bellamy for the day? Just the two of them? As the picture formed in her brain, she could feel her pulse rate begin to leap, but she tamped it down ruthlessly.

 _Stop it, you idiot. This is not a date._

It couldn't possibly be a date because...Bellamy Blake had a girlfriend. Had had one for nearly a year now. And everyone, Clarke included, liked Gina a lot.

Since Gina had moved in with him a few months ago, Clarke pretty much assumed that Bellamy _more than_ _liked_ Gina.

Still, for some reason he was at loose ends _._ Needed her company. And he'd already said it was a favor, something Bellamy could ask of her any time he wanted, because they were, after all, the best of friends. And besides, it was only because of Bellamy she had this job at all.

She'd only been a couple of months out of her MFA program when he'd called and offered it to her. When he'd told her his name, she'd just about remembered him as Octavia Blake's attractive older brother whom she'd met once years earlier.

Of course, since she and Octavia had barely even been friends, Clarke often thought it was a miracle she and Bellamy had ever met at all.

XXXXXXXXXX

 **Ten years ago...**

She was working on some drawings when he knocked on her dorm door, introduced himself, and told her he was looking for his sister who lived next door. All she knew about Octavia Blake was that she was a freshman and that she liked to party. Clarke was a sophomore and most decidedly NOT a party girl, although she kept telling herself that some day she was going to make time to have some fun.

They were standing in her doorway as she explained that she had no idea of his sister's whereabouts when his eyes suddenly lit up, drifting away from her and focusing instead on the drawings that were scattered about behind her, covering every available surface. As though pulled by an invisible cord, he shouldered wordlessly past her into the room and began examining them one after another, then turned to her, offering the most dazzling smile she'd ever seen.

"These drawings..."

"Yeah, what about them?" Clarke wrapped her arms around herself as she waited for his comment. At 19, she was still defensive about her art, and a beautiful smile wasn't worth crap if he was going to criticize her work.

"They're amazing! Fantastic!"

She felt unaccountably pleased, considering she'd known this guy for all of thirty seconds. But maybe that was it. Bellamy Blake had approached her door for a reason wholly unrelated to her art. He didn't know her at all, and could easily have ignored her drawings, but he hadn't. And Clarke would rather have one unexpected compliment from a total stranger than a lot of highly suspect flattery from her friends.

It was at that exact moment that Clarke became suddenly aware that his great smile was accompanied by broad shoulders and thick black curls. She was opening her mouth to tell him he could wait there for Octavia if he liked when she heard a voice from the still-open doorway.

"Bell! What are you doing here? And I told you I lived in 310, not 308."

Octavia's eyes narrowed and she peered at Clarke suspiciously, as though she'd somehow dragged Octavia's poor, unsuspecting brother into her den of seductive artwork.

"Hey, O." Bellamy's smile was fond as he moved quickly across the room to hug his sister. "I had a little free time so I thought I'd come down and see you. When you weren't here," he gave a little shrug, "I wondered if your neighbor...uh..." he stopped and squinted at Clarke as though he'd just then realized he didn't know her name.

"Clarke," she supplied with a small smile. "Clarke Griffin."

Bellamy nodded. "I'd just bothered Clarke here, asking if she knew where you were, when I spotted her drawings. Aren't they," he paused again, as though searching for the right word, finally settling on, "phenomenal?"

"They are," Octavia acknowledged, barely glancing at them, and Clarke thought her enthusiasm seemed a little...forced. She shrugged inwardly, accepting that everyone couldn't be a fan.

"Well, I'm here now," Octavia said, her voice bright as she tugged at her brother's arm. "Can we get some food?"

Bellamy laughed, and Clarke watched with amusement as Octavia practically pulled him out of the room. He looked back at her apologetically, and when he hesitated a moment in the doorway, she thought there might be something he wanted to say. But then he just shrugged.

"Nice meeting you, Clarke Griffin," is what finally came out of his mouth.

"You, too, Bellamy Blake," she said, as he closed the door behind them.

And it was true. It was always great to meet someone who thought her drawings were "phenomenal."

Clarke went back to work, and gave neither Blake much thought until the next day when she opened on a knock to find Octavia in her doorway. And she didn't look especially friendly.

"I just wanted to tell you," Octavia began before Clarke could utter a word of greeting, "not to bother getting any ideas about my brother."

Clarke's incipient smile faded as annoyance prickled up her spine.

"I met your brother for exactly three minutes, Octavia, so I'm not sure what kind of ideas you think I might be getting."

"Yeah, I know, that's what they all say," Octavia continued dismissively. "All the girls who've been throwing themselves at him since I was a kid. Look, I like you, Clarke, but he doesn't have time for you. Or anyone else. Bellamy is in grad school and he works about a million jobs. And besides, he doesn't even live here. He's going to school in Polis, so he wouldn't be around anyway."

She paused then, and Clarke wasn't sure if she was supposed to make some sort of response to this extraordinary speech. When after a few moments Octavia was still standing there, Clarke shrugged and said, "Well, okay, then. I'll be sure to keep all that in mind."

"Good," Octavia nodded, seemingly satisfied, before heading next door to her own room. Leaving Clarke standing in her doorway with her mouth hanging open.

Clarke only saw Bellamy Blake a couple of times after that, always with Octavia, and she scooted rapidly away on both occasions. If Bellamy thought her behavior odd, she hoped he'd ask his sister about it. She'd liked to have been a fly on the wall for _that_ conversation.

Strangely, a couple of months later she and Octavia nearly became real friends, helping each other out with emergency supplies and a lost key. They even went out to grab a burger once. And Clarke liked Octavia, she really did. But something always seemed to get in the way of their forming a deeper friendship.

Clarke was pretty sure that something was Bellamy.

The following academic year, both girls moved, Octavia to a different dorm and Clarke to an apartment where she could fill up even more rooms with her art projects. Clarke never ran into her again, but a few years later, when she got a friend request from Octavia Blake, she saw no reason not to accept it. No reason at all.

XXXXXXXXXX

 **Five years ago...**

Nearly five years after her one and only conversation with Bellamy, and a couple of weeks after she and Octavia became Facebook friends, Clarke received a very unexpected phone call.

"Bellamy Blake? How did you even get my number?"

"Octavia still had it in her phone and she passed it along. I, uh, hope you don't mind."

Clarke huffed in surprise. It was true that she hadn't changed her number in years, because... why bother? But she'd have thought Octavia would have deleted it long ago.

"No, it's fine," she said, "but, um..."

"It's your drawings," he said, explaining quickly. "That's why I'm calling. Octavia mentioned that according to your Facebook profile you're looking for a job."

Clarke sighed. She'd never really been sure about tossing pieces of her life out into the world for public consumption, but she supposed job hunting wasn't something she wanted to hide. Quite the opposite.

"Well, yeah. I just finished my MFA and it's not exactly easy..."

"Stop looking," he broke in impatiently.

"Huh?"

"I want to hire you."

" _Wh-what?_ " Was this guy kidding?

He laughed, a low rumbling sound that did things to her insides, a reaction she decided to ignore.

"Did Octavia tell you what I do for a living?"

"Bellamy, I haven't seen your sister in years."

"Well, that explains it. Um...have you ever heard of the _Awakenings_ book series? They're YA books about old Greek, Roman, and Norse myths that come to life?"

"Yeah, of course. There's stuff about them on the internet all the time."

"So, yeah. Those are...well, they're my books," he said, a bit diffidently. "I mean, I write them."

"Holy shit! Uh...congrats on that."

"Yeah, thanks. But see, that's where you come in. The books have had, um, some success, and the publishers want to include illustrations in the next one. In all the next ones. But I have final say on the artwork, and everything that's come in so far has just sucked. I hated it all. I think..."

He paused uncertainly, and his tone said that he was afraid what was coming next might sound a little crazy. But then he sighed and continued.

"I think that maybe the whole time I was writing the stories, in my head I was seeing your drawings. The fantastic detail. The saturated colors. And now I want you to draw them for real."

Clarke was flummoxed.

"But that was... _years_ ago. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Look, are you still living in Ark City? Would it be a problem for you to move to Polis?" Then, as if it had just occurred to him, "Shit! I'm sorry. There's probably someone in your life you need to consider..."

"No," she said quickly. "There's...no one. And I can move tomorrow."

Bellamy chuckled. "I think I can give you a little more time than that, Clarke. Can you get here by the end of the week? I'll text you my address."

They spent a few more minutes working out the details before the call ended, and then suddenly Clarke was employed, about to move...and wondering if she'd lost her mind.

But her instincts had been right on. Bellamy was crazy about everything she drew, and she loved all his stories. Every time he created a new character, there was that challenge to see if she could to bring his vision to life. But she always did.

He claimed it was like she could somehow see right inside his head.

The publishers were ecstatic as book sales continued to climb with each new entry in the series. Bellamy never seemed to run out of ideas and Clarke not only had a well-paying job, but enough free time to work on other art projects and even, as her star began to rise, a few commissions.

It was a collaboration made in heaven.

Or...mostly.

Because there was still that other thing.

While the work had gone well right from the start, it had taken Clarke a while to get her bearings in Polis. Even with the generous salary that Bellamy had gotten the publishers to pay her, it had been difficult for her to find a decent apartment, because Polis was an expensive city.

So at first, she'd just put her few household belongings into storage and crashed in Bellamy spare room. A temporary arrangement, they both agreed. But after a while, things had become so comfortable there, and she was so busy with the drawings for the new book, that she just kind of stopped looking for a place of her own.

One night a few weeks later, Bellamy suggested she abandon the idea of an apartment search altogether and they become roommates.

"Think of the convenience," he said reasonably. "We get so much done because we don't have to wait to meet up. You're just...right down the hall."

He cleared his throat.

"Not that I expect you to be working 24/7, of course. You'd still be able to, uh, pursue a..a social life. Have dates with guys. Or...uh, girls. Whatever."

And it had seemed like such a great idea. The perfect idea.

The trouble was that Clarke _didn't_ pursue a social life, and neither did Bellamy. Instead, the initial sparks of attraction that had been struck all those years ago began to reignite in them both. For months, they spent nearly all their time together. Happily so.

One night, drunk with elation at finishing a difficult section of the book, Clarke rushed into Bellamy's arms. In an instant they closed around her, and her small frame was swallowed up in his embrace.

She sank into him like it was home, like she never wanted to leave, and when she finally pulled back to look up at him, the expression on his face was so fond and so full of joy that Clarke had trouble taking her next breath.

She looked into his kind, intelligent eyes. Felt the gentleness of his large hands as they rested on her shoulders. Saw the humor in the curve of his beautiful mouth.

And wanted to kiss Bellamy Blake so badly that she was almost shaking with it.

Clarke was suddenly terrified.

"I think I should move out," she said, the words falling out of her mouth without conscious thought.

"Wh-what?" Bellamy's face changed in an instant. "I thought things were...going well."

She nodded. "Yeah, they are. But Bellamy, I don't think you and I should...get involved. And if I stay, we will."

"Clarke, I would never...I mean, that's not a condition of your employment."

She had to smile. "No, I know it isn't. I'm not saying I wouldn't be...more than willing. But the work is really important to both of us, and I just don't want to...risk it."

Bellamy was silent for a moment, and then she hear his soft sigh.

"Okay, Clarke," he said unhappily, "if that's the way you want it, I can't exactly force you to stay. I just..." he turned away, shook his head. "Never mind."

The next day, she and Bellamy began the apartment search in earnest and it wasn't long until they found something suitable. The day she moved out was difficult for them both, but she was still absolutely sure it was the right thing to do.

This new life she'd made for herself, the books, the art, her friendship with Bellamy - perhaps most _especially_ her friendship with Bellamy - those were things she valued. Things she wanted to keep. Not throw away by indulging a physical attraction that was sure to blow up in their faces later on.

No. She was certain it was far better to keep the collaboration, the partnership.

There were, after all, a whole lot of people she could date. But there was only one Bellamy Blake.

"It's going to be fine," she told him. "You and I are an unbeatable combination, and we're going to create fantastic books." She paused. "I'm so grateful to you, Bellamy, for giving me this chance."

Bellamy's mouth turned up in a small smile. "I'm the one who's grateful, Clarke. You're an amazing artist and the best friend I've ever had, and I don't see that changing, no matter what."

Clarke couldn't resist one final embrace. "It won't," she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek softly, and then practically running out the door before Bellamy could see the tears that were threatening to spill over.

And she was right. She and Bellamy had been so successful in their book collaborations that nowadays they did most of their work in a highrise office building, in a suite of rooms set aside for them by their publisher. They even had a couple of assistants to help them out with the grunt work.

Bellamy was right, too. Their friendship flourished, and after five years together they were closer than ever. Whether working or traveling or socializing, Bellamy and Clarke were still the very best of friends.

But none of that changed the reality of what their relationship was _not_. It had only been much, much later that Clarke had truly understood exactly what she had given up.

She dragged to the surface of her brain the words that had lately become her mantra.

 _You missed your chance. Live with it._

XXXXXXXXXX

While Clarke generally liked to sleep in on non-working Saturdays, this weekend she set her alarm, determined to wake early and get things like cleaning and laundry out of the way before Bellamy showed up. As she loaded the washer and vacuumed the rugs, she was torn between delighted anticipation of an entire day in his company and some curiosity about why he was coming at all.

She and Bellamy did spend a lot of time together, but other than the occasional group activity with their circle of friends, all of it was work-related. There were always the out-of-town book tours, of course, but after the first one she'd learned to keep scrupulously clear of him in their free time.

The first night of the first tour she'd made the mistake of thinking it would do no harm for them to enjoy a quiet dinner together. Because, after all, they'd worked hard and they deserved it. But two drinks in, Clarke knew she was only one sip away from tossing all restraint to the wind. So she'd quickly excused herself to a baffled Bellamy and hightailed it back to her hotel room to confront her dismaying weakness where Bellamy Blake was concerned.

Right then and there, she'd made herself a list. Pulled out her tablet and written down her rules for future book tours.

 **Number one: no one-on-one drinking.**

 **Number two: no intimate dinners.**

 **Number three: whatever you do, don't let him know you needed to make this list.**

They'd eventually stumbled into a Book Tour Protocol that worked for them. He stopped asking about dinner and she consented to drinks for as long as there was a third party present and not a second longer. Nowadays, they knew exactly what to expect from each other and she had to admit it was a lot easier.

The only remaining problem were some of the passionate _Awakenings_ fans, who seemed to have moved beyond the book characters and insisted on "shipping" the author and illustrator. Clarke found it... exasperating. She'd even heard they'd been given a "ship name" but she had no desire to know what it was.

The worst times were when some of those rabid fans showed up at one of their tour stops. They inevitably asked Bellamy and Clarke to pose together for endless pictures, and while they were always happy to oblige, sometimes the fans' thoughtless teasing comments were hard to swallow. Often, they made her heart hurt.

Eventually, Clarke became certain that everything would be just fine if only she could find someone to date. After all, Bellamy couldn't possibly be the only person in the universe she was attracted to. And right away, fate had seemed to smile on her.

XXXXXXXXXX

 _She met Finn Collins at the gym. Clarke was hardly a gym rat; just the opposite, in fact. Meaningless repetitive exercise bored her to tears. But she spent a lot of time sitting at her drawing board and understood she needed to add some movement to her life. So she dragged herself to the gym a couple of times a week to make sure the curves she was happy to have didn't become too generous._

 _She always suspected maybe it was those curves that had first attracted Finn, but, heck, it wasn't like she was trying to hide them._

 _It started with an invitation to coffee, then drinks, and finally dinner. Modern courtship, via the fast track. Clarke didn't even mind that he maybe rushed her into bed a little. She was happy - and a little relieved - to move on with the cutest guy she'd met in ages._

 _And at first it was great! She hadn't had a real significant other in years and it was fun to be able to couple up at group gatherings. Most of her friends - Monty, Harper, Jasper, even the snarky Miller - seemed to like Finn well enough, but Bellamy despised him on sight. Not that that really surprised her, because the two of them couldn't have been more different. Bellamy took his life - and the world - seriously, whereas Finn had...a different approach._

 _Of course later, it turned out that the real difference between them was that Bellamy Blake was a decent human being, while Finn Collins was a lying, cheating bastard._

 _Her experience with Finn left Clarke not only feeling like a fool, but definitely skittish about getting into another relationship. In fact, she avoided any kind of intimacy at all until she met Niylah Merchant on a booze cruise. Niylah was intelligent, attractive, and not interested in anything more than a friendly fuck. Which suited Clarke just fine. They took to drifting into bed now and again, whenever it was convenient._

 _Eventually, she and Niylah became less of an occasional hookup and more like full-time friends, although they still sometimes took comfort in each others' bodies. Still, by the time Niylah moved across the country for a better job, Clarke was far more unhappy at the prospect of losing a good friend than an occasional lover._

 _It was just after she and Bellamy finished their third collaboration, the most successful yet, that Clarke met another young woman. Someone whom she knew right away was going to be a lot more than a fuck buddy. Someone she thought might even become a permanent part of her life_

 _Lexa Greenwood had looks, status, and poise beyond her years. She was a rising star in local political circles, and when they met at a fundraiser Clarke was immediately smitten. So smitten that she was willing to try again at a real relationship._

 _And right from the beginning, things seemed to go well. They took it slower than she had with Finn, so that when they finally became intimate it seemed...inevitable._

 _As with Finn, she brought Lexa to group gatherings, and this time Bellamy didn't say a word. He treated Lexa with unfailing - but distant - courtesy. As did the others. They didn't exactly...warm up to Lexa, but neither did they ask Clarke not to bring her around._

 _Well, Jasper might have said that Lexa "thought her shit didn't smell," but then he always had a rather colorful way of expressing himself. Still, everyone else was mostly...cordial._

 _So the fact that they eventually stopped showing up at parties was mostly because of Lexa._

" _These friends of yours, Clarke," she asked one day, "how did you happen to...take up with them? They don't seem quite in your league."_

 _Clarke laughed. "Well, Miller is Bellamy's buddy from high school. Jasper and Monty are really Octavia's friends from college and when they moved to Polis Bellamy helped them out. Harper is Monty's girlfriend. And, um, Raven?" She was uncertain how to explain about Raven, finally settling on, "We met through a, uh, mutual friend."_

" _Bellamy?"_

" _What do you mean? You already know Bellamy and I create books together?"_

" _No, I meant...was Bellamy the mutual friend? Because most of your friends seem to really be Bellamy's friends. Like they're only yours by default."_

" _No, Raven and I definitely didn't meet through Bellamy. And I don't know why you say that. These are_ my _friends now just as much as his."_

 _Lexa frowned. "Most people choose their own friends, Clarke. They don't just...drift into the circle of friends of their...business partner."_

 _Clarke was nonplussed. She liked her friends. But it hardly seemed like something to get into a fight about._

" _I picked you, didn't I?" she finally reminded Lexa with a smile._

 _And the subject was dropped. For a time._

 _But soon her friends - her entire life, in fact - seemed to become a recurring theme in their conversations. While Lexa professed to have deep feelings for Clarke, she appeared to like nothing at all about how she lived her life. And it wasn't long before it became crystal clear that what she liked least about it was Clarke's job._

" _Why are you wasting your time drawing pictures for these children's books?" Lexa asked more than once, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're such a talented artist. You could be doing anything you want."_

" _I am doing what I want," Clarke insisted, puzzled. "I'm an illustrator, so drawing is kinda my thing. And right now, these are some of the most popular books on the planet. And they're not just read by children."_

" _But your drawings are so good, Clarke. They're...museum-worthy."_

 _Clarke tried to explain that her drawings were seen by far more people in the_ Awakenings _books than they ever would be if they hung in the Met...or the Louvre._

" _It's just not the same thing," Lexa insisted, shaking her head. "It's a matter of...prestige."_

 _And it was a disagreement for which they never seemed to find a resolution. In fact, it began to crop up so frequently that after a while it dawned on Clarke that Lexa's criticism of her career choice was more or less a blind. That what she_ really _objected to was Bellamy himself._

" _You go running off every time he calls!" she accused one day when, not for the first time, Clarke had to cut short their lunch date._

" _It's my job, Lexa," she protested, annoyed. "You know that. And we're on a deadline."_

" _It's a kid's book, Clarke! Not the preservation of the human race." Lexa's scorn was palpable._

" _I'm sorry, I have to go." Clarke pulled some bills out of her purse and threw them on the table. "But I'm even more sorry that you don't understand."_

 _The situation came to a head a few weeks later._

 _Clarke was getting ready to leave for a six-month anniversary getaway weekend that Lexa had surprised her with when Bellamy called. She'd barely answered when his distressed voice sounded in her ear._

" _Fuck, Clarke! They suddenly hate the entire center section of the book. Said I've gotta change the whole thing by Monday."_

" _What! I thought they already gave a green light to the whole manuscript."_

" _Yeah, well apparently someone forgot to tell the author that the middle of his book sucked!"_

" _Shit! So what are we gonna do?" This was truly a disaster._

 _Bellamy sighed. "I hate to ask you this, Clarke, but if you and Lexa don't have anything special planned, I thought...maybe...you wouldn't mind helping me out this weekend so we can make the fixes by the fucking deadline. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Uh...Lexa, too."_

 _Clarke didn't write the books, of course, but since the very beginning of their collaboration she'd acted as his sounding board, especially when he was stressed. She knew he'd have a much better chance of getting it all done if she was there to help._

 _She could hear the panic in his voice, and hated to think how pressured he must be feeling._

 _She never even hesitated._

" _Of course! I'll meet you at the office as soon as I can."_

 _Clarke knew Lexa wouldn't be happy when she called to let her know their weekend was off, but she didn't expect the hostility. Or the accusations._

" _Will you ever pick me first, Clarke? Is that ever going to be a possibility?"_

" _What are you talking about! This is work, Lexa. You know that..."_

" _What I know is that_ you _don't write these books. So if they need a new...plot...or whatever the hell the problem is,_ he _can fix it himself!"_

 _Lexa nearly spit out the simple pronoun 'he'._

 _Clarke heard the words but couldn't seem to understand therm._

" _But...I can't abandon him. He needs me, Lexa. Even if I don't write the words, we work on the books together. I can't let him down." She felt her back go rigid. "I won't."_

 _For a moment, Lexa was silent. When she spoke again, her tone was flat._

" _I'll ask the question again, Clarke. Will you ever pick me first? Me...over Bellamy?"_

 _Clarke was taken aback. The first time Lexa had asked, she knew the question had been rhetorical. But this time it sounded like she wanted an answer. And if Clarke was being honest, she really didn't have one._

" _I-I don't know," she said finally._

" _That's what I thought," Lexa said, her voice clipped, just before she disconnected._

 _They managed to finish the rewrite by the deadline, but only just barely, and Clarke worked on a new drawing as well to accompany it. They were so busy, in fact, that she was able to put her conversation with Lexa entirely out of her head. Especially that last part. So it was only later, after she and Bellamy had turned in the new manuscript, and she and Lexa had mended fences over the aborted getaway weekend, that she knew she could no longer avoid confronting the central issue._

Would _she ever be able to put anyone ahead of Bellamy? Would his needs ever not be front and center for her? Even if he didn't ask it? Even, she realized, if he didn't even_ know _it?_

 _It took Clarke a few weeks to muddle through her feelings, especially those she usually kept hidden even from herself. When she eventually came up with an answer, she did the only thing she could._

 _She broke up with Lexa._

 _But that was the easy part. She knew she also had to deal with Bellamy. It wasn't a discussion for the office, but neither did she want to just show up on his doorstep suddenly, insisting on a "meaningful" conversation. She thought maybe the casual approach might work._

 _Before Lexa, Bellamy would often give her a lift home from their group parties. There was one that weekend. The more she considered it, the more it felt like the perfect solution._

 _Clarke Ubered to Jasper's, rehearsing exactly what she'd say to Bellamy all the way over. As soon as she opened the door, she saw him. Or at least the back of his curly head._

" _Here she is," she heard somebody say._

 _Bellamy turned around with a smile, and she was so happy to see him that just at first she didn't notice that someone was standing right next to him. Someone she'd never seen before._

" _Where the hell have you been?" he asked cheerfully. "There's someone I need you to meet."_

 _And that's when she saw her. Tall. Curly brown hair. Friendly smile. She looked nothing at all like anyone she'd ever seen him with._

" _This is my best friend, Clarke," he said happily, grabbing onto the girl's hand. "Clarke, meet Gina."_

XXXXXXXXX

She'd just folded the last of her lingerie when she heard his knock. Clarke glanced at the clock. _12:02_. She should have known that he'd arrive precisely on time.

"Just a minute!" she called, shoving her clean undies into a drawer and moving quickly across the apartment to open the door to a smiling Bellamy.

"Hey," she said, and then, "what's that?" Indicating the heavy paper sack in his left hand, from which emanated the most tantalizing aroma.

"Lunch," he said. "I figured you were probably frazzled from washing all those unmentionables." Bellamy glanced around at the tidy room. "What? Done already? Did you get up with the birds or something? I'd love to have seen that!"

"Shut up!" she said, glaring at him. Bellamy was an early riser and never stopped teasing her about her preference for sleeping in when she could.

"What did you bring me? It almost smells like..." Her mouth began to water in anticipation.

"Yep," he said, moving toward the kitchen. "Chili from Salvatore's. I figured you'd probably need a little pick-me-up after all that laundry."

Clarke smiled in delight. Salvatore's was one of the first places he'd brought her to after she'd moved to Polis, and their chili was her absolute favorite. She hadn't had it in ages.

The restaurant had a convivial vibe but it really wasn't a place where she felt comfortable eating alone. And before that...well, Lexa hadn't been the sort who'd consider going out for something as simple as chili. Besides, the restaurant was...

"Hey, that place is all the way across town, Bellamy. You didn't have to go to all that trouble. We could have got a pizza or something."

Bellamy shrugged as he pulled two bowls down from the cupboard and started dishing up their lunch. "I know you love this stuff, Clarke, and I figured you deserved a reward for giving up your Saturday for me."

 _Giving up her Saturday?_ It was all Clarke could do not to roll her eyes at how wide of the mark that statement actually was, but she managed a small smile and a nod of thanks.

"And I think I might even have a couple of _cervezas_ to go along with our chili," she said, opening the fridge and extracting two cold beers.

As they sat at Clarke's small table, she tried to push away the feeling of contentment that rose inside her as the two of them ate their lunch in companionable silence. It was something they'd done a hundred times before, and it still felt so...natural.

She closed her eyes briefly. _Jesus! Would she never learn?_

"So what's this recipe we're trying out today?" Bellamy asked with the crooked smile she loved.

She shifted in her chair, forcing her eyes from his smile, and her brain from her treacherous thoughts.

"It's something I found on Pinterest..."

"Oh, jeez! Clarke Griffin and one of her Pinterest finds? That could be dangerous!"

"Can it, Blake! That was just one time. And I've given up on making furniture."

But she had to smile, thinking about the stupidity of her last Pinterest adventure. She'd cut her arm badly, but instead of calling 911, like any sane person, she'd called Bellamy. Who'd nearly panicked when he saw the blood, but still managed to get her to the ER, where they'd stitched her up.

There were no lasting ill-effects, but Clarke had definitely traded in saws in favor of spatulas.

"You'll love it," she said confidently. "It's a pork tenderloin with a balsamic plum reduction."

He nodded. "Sounds great. Are we having dessert?"

She frowned. "I hadn't got that far..."

"So what if I make chocolate mousse?"

Clarke squinted at him. "You can make chocolate mousse?"

"How hard can it be?" he shrugged. "And I have the definitive recipe. The Craig Claiborne recipe."

"Who's Craig Claiborne?"

Bellamy groaned and shook his head. "I'll explain on the way to the market."

He picked up their bowls, rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher. "Do you have a shopping list?"

Clarke couldn't believe how much fun their trek to the market was. It was years since they'd shopped together, but back then, back when they were roommates, every trip to the grocery store had been an adventure. They both liked to cook and were intrigued by unusual ingredients. They'd start out shopping strictly from a list - and end up with a whole lot of stuff that they planned to try _later_.

But Clarke knew there would be no _later_ after this trip, that this was her one day to enjoy cooking with Bellamy. Still, they both eyed the rhubarb and the pickled ginger, the catfish nuggets and the millet, shrugging and smiling with regret. Clarke looked at Bellamy, and she somehow knew he was remembering those earlier trips with the same fond recollection.

Surprisingly, the memory didn't feel awkward or strange or uncomfortable, but only nostalgic. Like a happy time from days gone by.

Maybe, Clarke thought, she really _was_ getting over Bellamy at last.

But she changed her mind a moment later when his phone buzzed with a text just as they reached the cashier, and he pulled it out of his pocket so fast he almost dropped it. As he read the text, Bellamy's expression was unfathomable, but nevertheless Clarke's heart plummeted.

Gina. Of course it was from Gina. She had the kind of job that involved a lot of travel, so she was often away. She must be out of town or he'd never be at loose ends like this.

Clarke knew she should ask him about it, and about why they were spending the day together, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Because if she was somehow a substitute for Gina, she really didn't think she could bear it.

Better not to know.

"Everything okay?" Her question was tentative.

He nodded, and for just a second as their eyes met, she thought she saw a flicker of... something. But then it was gone in a flash and there was that half-smile again.

"Let's get home and get cooking or who the hell knows what time we'll get to eat this stuff."

Her kitchen was small, smaller even than Bellamy's, but somehow they managed. The pork dish had only a few steps but the plum reduction was tricky. As for Bellamy, Clarke couldn't stop smiling as she watched out of the corner of her eye while he focused all his energy on separating eggs, melting chocolate, and whipping meringue.

How many times had they done this dance before? Moving around the kitchen like the choreography had been laid out for them, and all the steps seemed to come naturally. Bellamy to the fridge, Clarke to the stove, a quick-step ball-change against the short countertop.

She'd always loved it, how she and Bellamy were able to bring such synchronicity to everything they did together. It worked no less well in the kitchen than it did in creating a successful book series.

And just like all those years ago, they were chatting as they cooked, about the food, about work, about what their friends had been up to. Bumping around each other for the dozenth time, big grins on both their faces.

And then Bellamy's phone buzzed again, and the dance came to an abrupt halt.

This time he did more than read the text. His face expressionless, he stopped in the middle of whipping meringue to type out a quick response.

Clarke looked away, trying hard not to resent the interruption. Forcing herself to remember that _she_ was the interloper, and that he was Gina's boyfriend, not the other way around. When she finally recalled just how much she actually liked Gina, she began to feel like a real bitch.

It wasn't long after that the pork went into the oven to roast, and the mousse into the fridge to set up. And suddenly they had nothing to do but wait.

"How about a glass of wine?" she asked, opening the cupboard to her stemware.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Good. Because I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Clarke felt a sudden bolt of panic. In her experience, nothing good ever happened whenever anyone said they _wanted to talk to you._

She quickly closed the cupboard door.

"On second thought, why don't we take a walk? One of the great things about this place is that the city park is only a few blocks away."

She grabbed her hoodie and was at the door before Bellamy could even respond.

"Okay," he shrugged. "I could do with a little exercise."

But Clarke knew that _walking_ still wouldn't preclude _talking_ , so as soon as they were outside she initiated a subject she was sure he wouldn't be able to resist.

"So," she asked brightly as they turned southward towards the park, "have you decided which myth the next book will be based on?"

He'd been deliberating for weeks among four or five possibilities, and as expected, he took the bait immediately, shaking his head in exasperation.

"I've narrowed it down to two, I think. It's either going to be the Norse myth about the prankster Loki, or the Greek legend about Theseus and the minotaur." He turned to her. "Do you have a preference?"

She shook her head. "You know I can work with whatever you decide. It's been a while since you did a story from the Norse, though."

They discussed and debated as they walked, and it wasn't much different from their usual routine. Except that these days those discussions took place in the sterile environment of their office, not outdoors in the sunshine.

When they finally reached the park, Bellamy threw himself down on a bench, declaring himself frazzled by indecision.

"Yeah, you know you say that every book," Clarke insisted, laughing, as she joined him on the bench.

They'd been sitting in silence, companionably quiet for a few moments, when a small girl wandered over, trailed by a woman who could only have been her grandmother.

"Callie," the woman cried in exasperation as the girl began to pat Bellamy's leg, "leave the man alone."

Clarke chuckled as Bellamy smiled down at the toddler. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but for as long as she'd known Bellamy, he was like a magnet for small children. They followed him around, and if he was sitting still, they simply climbed all over him. This wasn't the first young child who'd accosted him in a park.

"I'm so sorry," the woman said with a smile. "She doesn't usually pick up strange men."

Bellamy laughed. "That's okay. Hello, Callie," he said, smiling down at the little girl still tugging at his leg.

The girl just giggled, delighted, and Clarke followed suit.

"Do you two have children?" the woman asked pleasantly, picking up the child. She peered at them intently and added, "Any child of yours would certainly be very beautiful."

Clarke felt her insides drop as her brain scrambled for the correct response. She looked over at Bellamy and saw that his face had become a mask. His eyes flickered toward her with a sadness she couldn't interpret.

Then he seemed to recover himself, answering for them both.

"No, we have no children."

The woman nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she'd caught the change in atmosphere. She opened her mouth, but they were saved from what Clarke knew was sure to be an apology when Callie suddenly wriggled free, demanding to be put down. She immediately ran off, grandma giving chase.

Clarke cleared her throat, glancing over at Bellamy. "Maybe we should head back. The pork needs to come out soon."

"Right," Bellamy agreed, rising from the bench and giving her his crooked smile.

Clarke was relieved to see that the sadness had left his eyes.

They each declared bragging rights, but the truth was that the pork and the mousse were both successes. They drank some wine with their meal, just an inexpensive bottle of Chardonnay that Clarke happened to have in the refrigerator.

A third text came for Bellamy while they were cleaning up, but this one, like the first, apparently didn't require a response. Clarke shrugged inwardly, her brain too befuddled by the wine to bother trying to sort it out.

Or maybe she'd had just enough alcohol. Because when they moved to the sofa with their chocolate mousse, Clarke didn't panic when Bellamy said once again that he wanted to talk to her. She just nodded calmly and poured them both another glass of wine.

Inside, though, her stomach twisted in knots as she watched him take a big swallow before he began to speak.

"Um, you may have wondered why I wanted to hang out with you today," he began tentatively, eyes flitting between her face and the glass in his hand.

"Not really," she lied smoothly. "You're welcome anytime."

"Thanks. Still...I just...I needed to get out of my place, just for the day."

He stopped, and Clarke nodded, encouraging. "Okay."

Bellamy expelled a breath.

"Gina...moved out today and...she didn't want me around while she did it." His tone was utterly without inflection.

Of all the things he might have wanted to tell her, that possibility hadn't even been on Clarke's radar.

She scrambled to find the right words.

"I'm...so sorry, Bellamy. So is this why you've been a little sad today? It must have been...a shock."

It was certainly a shock to _her_.

Bellamy shook his head.

"No, it wasn't a shock. We...uh...Gina and I...we broke up weeks ago."

This second shock nearly had her spilling her wine.

"What?" _How could he not have told her?_

"Yeah, um, we decided a few weeks ago that it wasn't going to work out, and Gina...left. But she's been traveling for work, and then she needed to find a new place, so she just...left her things with me. Until today."

"And the texts?"

He shrugged. "When she got there and when she left. The one this afternoon she needed a screwdriver and couldn't find one, so I had to tell her..."

"What I don't understand," Clarke interrupted abruptly, her voice tight as the hurt rose inside her, "is why the hell you didn't tell me."

"I _am_ telling you. I've been kinda trying to tell you all day."

"No, Bellamy," she was already shaking her head. "I mean, why didn't you tell me when it happened? _Weeks ago?_ I just...I can't believe something so important happened in your life and you never even let me know."

And then a new thought struck her.

"Was it...were you just so upset that you couldn't even talk about it?"

Bellamy glanced momentarily away, and she watched as red suffused his face beneath the smooth tan of his skin.

"No, that wasn't it. I mean, maybe I was a little upset at first, but mostly I was just so pissed."

"At Gina?"

"At myself. How the fuck could I have gotten this old and still be such a jackass about relationships?"

"Who says you're a jackass about relationships? _We_ have a good relationship!" She was breathing hard now, ready to do battle if Bellamy starting berating himself.

"Yeah, we do," he said. "You're my best friend. Which is why I came over here today. To remind myself that I'm not a total failure. That I have at least one decent relationship in my life."

His full lips twisted into a narrow smile.

"Of course," he said, his voice soft, his tone rueful, "there's so much irony in that particular choice that I'm practically drowning in it."

He sighed then, a defeated sound. "The thing is, Clarke, I couldn't give Gina what she wanted, and... sometimes I'm not sure I can give you what you want, either."

Clarke felt her jaw drop. _What the hell did that mean?_

He rose suddenly, swallowing the last of his wine. "I think I need to go."

" _What_? Wait! Where are you going?" She jumped up, as he headed for the door. "l don't understand. What do you mean you can't give me what I want? I've never asked anything from you, Bellamy."

Bellamy stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Sure you did. You asked one thing of me and I've been trying to give it to you for years."

His face softened and his mouth twisted into an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I know I should have told you about Gina sooner, but I just...I couldn't."

"Bellamy..." She stood there, bewildered, unable to believe he was going to leave just like that.

"See you Monday. And don't worry. I'm pretty sure everything will be back to normal by then. Including me."

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke had occasionally wondered why she bothered with an item as outmoded as an alarm clock. After all, she could get the time from her phone and set an alarm there as well.

She figured maybe it was a comfort thing. From her childhood. She'd had an alarm clock next to her bed all the way through school, and woken each day to its annoying buzz. So now, even though it was nothing more than a cheap plastic cube she'd bought at Target for $9.99, the clock's sturdy presence on her bedside table gave her a sense of security. Knowing that every day she'd wake up in plenty of time to meet the challenges and obligations of her life.

A few minutes ago she'd come close to flinging the thing against the wall.

As she tossed and turned, the clock's three-inch-high numbers seemed to blink at her, reminding her with every passing minute that she was not sleeping, that she was probably _never_ going to sleep again, and that her life had suddenly become a fucked-up mess.

Her mind would simply not stop racing because _she couldn't seem to process the things that Bellamy had told her._

He and Gina had broken up weeks ago and she'd moved out. That much was clear. But he'd never said exactly _why_ they'd broken up. And while Clarke supposed he was entitled to keep the details to himself, what he had let slip just confused the hell out of her.

 _He hadn't been able to give Gina what she wanted._ What did that mean?

Had Gina wanted the same thing Lexa had wanted? To be first in his life? Was that it? And if he couldn't give that to her...

Clarke hadn't been able to fully commit to Lexa because of Bellamy. Was it the same with him? Was _she_ _herself_ the problem?

But no, that couldn't be right. He'd had weeks after she broke up with Lexa to talk to her about it. About them. About the two of them together. After all, they hadn't had that conversation in five years. So surely, after all that time, if he were interested...

And yet, he'd said nothing. Done nothing. Instead, he'd started dating Gina.

Round and round they went through her head, the same thoughts over and over. Always leading nowhere.

Clarke rolled over, groaning in frustration.

 _Why couldn't he have stayed just a little longer so we could have talked it out?_

She finally fell asleep just as the sky was beginning to lighten. When she woke a couple of hours later, she wasn't rested and she wasn't refreshed. But she _was_ determined.

Bellamy had said he'd see her Monday. That everything would be back to normal by then. But there was no way in hell she was waiting until Monday to find out if she might not have missed her chance after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

She was bleary-eyed but clean when she arrived on his doorstep, a coffee in each hand. She'd had a quick shower and thrown on some comfy jeans and a tee, then swung through the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. But that was as much as she'd been willing to delay.

So it was barely 8am when she knocked on Bellamy's door.

Clarke thought at first that maybe he wasn't home and that she'd have to wait until Monday after all,. But then the door swung open suddenly and there he was. Dressed in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his glasses perched precariously on his nose.

Her heart lurched, the sudden burst of love so strong it felt like a living thing.

"Clarke?"

She knew she must have woken him because his voice was still raspy with sleep. Although he looked no more rested than she felt.

He opened the door wider so she could step inside, automatically closing his hand around the proffered cup of coffee and gently shutting the door behind them.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned to face her as she sat on his old worn sofa, the same one he'd had years ago. When she'd lived here as his roommate. When everything had been...simple.

And suddenly Clarke's hand was shaking, her coffee in danger of spilling the hell all over the place.

"Here, better let me take that," Bellamy said, grabbing it quickly and placing both cups on a side table.

He sat down beside her and peered at her questioningly. "Why don't you tell me what's going on."

Clarke cleared her throat, determined to be direct. Unambiguous.

"I need to know what it all meant, Bellamy. Everything you told me last night."

"Clarke..." He paused. "Look, there's nothing for you to worry about. We're...good. We're always good." He shrugged. "You'll come to the office tomorrow and everything will be like it always is."

"But that's just it," she said. "I don't want it to be like it always is."

Bellamy frowned, then his eyes widened and he suddenly looked panicked.

"Are you...you're not saying you're quitting, are you? Because..."

"No, no," she said hurriedly, putting him out of his misery on that score. "This has nothing to do with work."

"Oh?" The panic was gone but the puzzled frown remained.

"Yeah. It has to do with me and you." Clarke paused for a deep breath. "But first I need to ask about...Gina."

"Clarke..."

"Bellamy, I need to know why you broke up. What it was she wanted that you couldn't give her. I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business but I still...I need to know."

Bellamy glanced away from her, raking his fingers through his hair. Finally huffed out a laugh.

"It's not...that. That it's not your business. It's..." he paused, shrugged. "Clarke, you really don't want to know the answer to that question."

"I do..."

"Trust me, you don't."

"Why? You gonna tell me she wanted you to do something...I don't know...illegal?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what?"

"Jesus, Clarke!" Bellamy leaped off the couch and began pacing the room, stopping finally to loom over her. "Why the hell is this so important?" he asked, his voice tight. "Can't you just believe me when I tell you you'd rather not hear it?"

"No, Bellamy. Please." She looked up at him, her body rigid with the intensity of her need. "It's really important. What did she want from you that you couldn't give her?"

"Dammit, Clarke!" Bellamy ran his hands through his hair again, and then rubbed them across his face, pulling at the skin of his cheeks and jaw.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. His shoulders rising and falling in a resigned shrug.

"Okay," he said, dropping down to sprawl across the opposite end of the couch. Finally, perhaps inevitably, capitulating.

He glanced over at her then, his tired voice filled with honest regret.

"She wanted me to be...all in. To love her and promise her forever, and I...I couldn't do it."

"Why not?" Clarke's question was immediate, but her throat felt tight, like she'd had to force the words out.

His answer was quiet and direct, but by now he was barely looking at her. "Because...you're the one I love."

The room was so silent that Clarke could hear Bellamy's harsh breaths. And the pounding of her own heart.

His tone of voice had been completely matter-of-fact, the expression on his face utterly resigned. Exactly like he hadn't just upended her whole world.

"I never told her that, of course," he added after a moment. "And...I'm sorry, Clarke. I sure as shit know that it's the last thing you want to hear, but you asked..."

"It isn't." The words came out on a sigh.

He stopped abruptly, and she heard his quick intake of breath. Then his head twisted sharply towards her.

"What did you say?"

Clarke steadied her fluttering hands by lacing her fingers together, but kept her eyes trained on his face. "I said that"...sharp breath..."it _isn't_ the last thing I want to hear."

For a moment he just stared at her, and then he gave his head a quick shake.

"I don't understand. You told me in this very room that we couldn't be together, not if we were going to be partners in the books. And I've tried like hell to respect that, to give you what you wanted..."

He huffed.

"But now...that wasn't what you wanted after all?"

"Bellamy, I'm sorry. I've been...stupid. About a lot of things, but mostly about you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I figured out...a while ago...that how I...felt about you wasn't going to go away."

Clarke fought to keep her voice even.

"A while ago."

"After...Lexa."

"And you couldn't have maybe mentioned this to _me_?" She could hear the tinge of anger in his voice.

"I was going to. After Jasper's party last year. But that was..."

"I brought Gina to that party."

He jumped up again, resumed his pacing, his body restless as his brain tried to work it all out.

"But that was weeks after you broke up with Lexa!" he said finally, accusing. "Why didn't you say something before that? Why did you wait all that time?"

He hovered over her, tense, waiting for an answer.

"Why did you wait all that time to tell me you and Gina had broken up!" Accusations, she figured, could be flung in both directions.

Pointless as they were.

Bellamy's face twisted and she could see him finding the irony. He seemed to deflate then, the anger leaving him abruptly as he threw himself back on the couch with a sigh.

"You know," he said, not looking at her, "for a long time I was so sure our... agreement... wouldn't be a problem. We'd work together, date other people, be the best of friends. But then you got serious with Lexa and suddenly... everything was different. And it _was_ a problem."

She was perplexed. "But if-if _I_ was the one you really wanted, why did you start dating Gina? I was single then."

He turned toward her.

"Because I knew you'd eventually find someone else and that it wasn't going to be me. It wasn't ever going to be me. Because we'd made that agreement that _you_ wanted. So I thought it was about time I tried to find someone I could be happy with. Someone I could fall in love with."

His smile was wry. "See, I thought that was how it worked. If you found someone great, you'd fall in love. Nobody ever mentioned that if you were _already_ in love, that would fuck things up. Even if you hadn't really figured that part out."

He sighed again, shaking his head. "Shit! It was so unfair to Gina. I think...maybe she knew, but she never said anything, not even at the end."

"Gina _is_ great," Clarke said, and she meant it. She'd never had any animosity toward Gina.

"Yeah, she is," he agreed. "And she deserved better from me."

"Maybe. But still, it wasn't your fault."

"Clarke..."

"No, Bellamy," she insisted, unwilling to allow his guilt. "I know you'd never deliberately hurt anyone. And I...I did the same thing with Lexa. She kept asking me to choose her over you, but I just couldn't do it. And for months, I never really considered _why_ I couldn't."

It had been a long emotional conversation and Clarke suddenly felt her eyes stinging, and her throat closing. And then the tears were spilling over and running down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey," Bellamy murmured, reaching out for her, pulling her close enough to cup her cheek and wipe away the tears. "It's gonna be okay."

For a moment they just gazed at each other in silence.

"So...tell me why couldn't you choose Lexa," Bellamy asked quietly. Like he couldn't help himself.

"Because you were more important," she answered honestly, her smile watery. "You were always...the most important. We hurt them without meaning to, Bellamy, because we didn't really understand how it was with us. With you and me."

Bellamy exhaled softly

"And...how is it with us?" he asked, and she could see the hope in his face.

"We love each other," Clarke told him simply, and her smile was warm. She wanted no misunderstandings, no words left unsaid. "I think...I think maybe we have almost right from the beginning."

"I think you're right," he said, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close.

She sank into his embrace, as she had all those years ago, and it felt like coming home. But she soon pulled back to study him, to reach up and stroke her palm across his jaw.

"Five years ago, it scared the hell out of me how much I wanted to kiss you. But that's nothing to what I'm feeling right now." Her heart was so full she had trouble getting the words out.

"Good," he whispered, bending towards her and closing the gap at last.

At first, the kiss was soft and gentle, just a brush of his lips across her own. But then five years of longing surged through them both and soon she was pressed against him, straddling his body, their mouths opening on a moan.

The kiss went on and on and soon Clarke wanted more. More of Bellamy.

"Oh, god, Clarke, can I touch you?" he asked, when they finally came up for air.

She answered by dragging off his shirt, then pulling off her own shirt and bra. She cupped her breasts and pressed them against his chest, tugging his head down for another kiss.

Bellamy groaned with desire, and she could feel him hardening beneath her.

"Fuck, Clarke, you have no idea how much I want you."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," she whispered in his ear, grinding herself against him.

"I want to take you to bed right now," he murmured into her hair, his voice tight with desire.

She smiled against his cheek. "Good. I think five years is a long enough wait."

"But if we do this, then we're together, okay? We work together and... we love together."

Clarke pulled back to gaze at him and sighed into her smile.

"I'm pretty sure we've always loved together," she told him softly. "We just didn't know it."

XXXXXXXXXX

As it turned out, Bellamy decided to use neither the Norse legend of Loki nor the Theseus story for his next book. Instead, he thought maybe it was time for an actual love story.

"YA readers like love stories, right?" he asked Clarke when he ran the idea past her.

" _Everyone_ likes a good love story," she assured him with a smile, planting a soft kiss on the cleft of his chin.

And she was right.

 _Cupid's Bow_ became their best-selling book by far, and the accompanying drawings were so beautiful that someone in the art world actually took note. Clarke was asked by the Museum of Modern Art to create a piece to include in their upcoming exhibition on "Art in Today's Media."

It took their friends exactly one week to figure out what was going on with them. Raven swore she knew as soon as she saw them, and Jasper said the choice of a love story for their next book was a dead giveaway. Of course, it might have helped that Murphy had already run into Gina on a date with another guy.

"You guys are such amazing detectives," Clarke told them with a laugh.

"Yeah, hey, maybe don't give up your day jobs just yet," Bellamy added.

When the MOMA exhibition opened, Bellamy was so thrilled for Clarke that he bought all their friends plane tickets to New York so they could attend.

(Clarke was so excited that she never gave a single thought to the former lover who had wanted her to focus on more "museum-worthy" art.)

After the opening night, in the privacy of their hotel room, Bellamy pulled out a small velvet-covered box and proposed to Clarke. He looked so nervous that Clarke was touched.

"Did you really think I might say _no_?" she asked, smiling, declaring it the best night of her life.

She insisted she was going to call Octavia right then and there and inform her that she had, at long last, gotten some "ideas" about her brother. In fact, she'd already pulled out her phone to do so, but Bellamy said Octavia could wait. And he always knew exactly how to distract her.

The book tour for _Cupid's Bow_ was the longest and most exhausting ever. It wasn't until the next-to-last stop, however, that they ran into some of those "fangirls," the ones who "shipped" the two of them. The group of five smiling girls took one look at the ring on Clarke's finger, made some correct assumptions, and began squealing so loudly that Bellamy had to promise them a later photo op to get them to pipe down.

And Clarke at last learned their "ship name."

"Bellarke?" she repeated to Bellamy later, feeling thoroughly disgruntled. "Why does your name have to come first? Why isn't it, uh, Clarkamy or something?"

But Bellamy just laughed. "I don't care what they call us," he said. "All I care is that they're right."

And she had to agree with him there.


End file.
